


Adopting a Dwarf

by Sargerogue



Series: The Line of Wanderers [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Found Family, Pre-The Hobbit, Too many dwarves mentioned in quick bits., Why am I uploading this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 19:45:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14960978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sargerogue/pseuds/Sargerogue
Summary: In Third Age 2736, a trading caravan of dwarrows is attacked by a group of greedy Men. The lone survivor was a wee little baby dwarf. Discovered by two Hobbits out on a holiday, they take her in and raise her as best they can, finding family and friends along the way.





	1. 4-15-2736

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own Tolkien's beautiful world. If I did, I would fix so many age issues that he created. 
> 
> Things to know:  
> -The hobbits that adopt the dwarf are wives in their middle ages.  
> -I call dwarves, dwarrows. Why? Well, Tolkien called them dwarves as a bit of bad grammar that he liked but according to his research (which was extensive considering he was a Middle English scholar), dwarrows would have been the plural of dwarf if people had used it more. I like dwarrows better, I'm an English Major and it makes me feel better.  
> -Ooh, Balin is his movie age. I like him going around and calling Thorin laddie, so he's doing that. Dwalin, if you actually look at his birthday, was not born in Erebor. He was actually born two years later. The only ones born in Erebor would be Balin, Thorin, Dís, and Frerin.  
> -Thrór does have some sanity, thanks to being away from the gold.  
> -Oh, I suppose the early arrival at Ered Luin might be my one giant change from Tolkien's work. The dwarrows settled in the south first and after the Battle of Azanulbizar they moved to Ered Luin. So yeah, threw that out the window.  
> -Dates are given in a month-day-year order. I did this because the different races have different calendars and names for months. So, we will have a 12 month calendar with the "January" as our starting point. I just didn't want to deal with picking one Tolkien designed. I believe I never name months, just give them a number or call it by season.

4-15-2736, In the woods Between Hobbiton and Frogmorton 

They had planned the trip to Bree weeks ago, a getaway before the upcoming spring festival. Tanta Noakes and Shanna Took, wives and adventurers, had taken the trip instead of attending a tea party at the Sackville house.  The road home was nearly complete. They would reach Hobbiton within hours as long as Tanta stopped trying to nibble at Shanna’s ear as they walked.

A shout, barely audible and comprehensible, reached them through the trees, warning someone to take cover. Shanna, quick to think, shoved her love up a tree and scampered up after her. They hid in the greens of the trees as sounds of a battle drifted down the road. The screams of women reached them as well as children and men. Hooves beat down on the dirt road. A group of Men, several leaning heavily on their horses, rode by at a full gallop.

The deafening silence that followed swallowed the woods. Shanna helped Tanta from the tree. They crept toward where the sounds of battle had been, closer to Hobbiton.

A small caravan of wagons sat in the road, most on fire or ravaged. Bodies of dwarrows littered the ground. It was one of the spring trading caravans that stopped through the Shire as they headed for the Blue Mountains or the Grey Havens. Tanta, ever the healer, went to the first body to see if there were signs of life. She did so for every body as she went. Shanna walked among the bodies, hope draining from her with every step. There was a cry from a nearby wagon, one of the few that was not on fire, and a ragged cough followed.

“Tanta!” Shanna called as she ran toward the wagon. There was a male dwarf fallen beside a female dwarf, his chest still and full of arrows. His sword laid across the legs of the female dwarf, an arrow piercing her chest. She was struggling to breathe. There was a baby, maybe a year old, sprawled across her mother’s shoulder. The baby cried harder, grasping the braids of her mother. “I’m here to help.”

“Hobbit.” She nodded and eased the baby up off her bloody shoulder. “My daughter, please, take my Brynye.” Tanta knelt by them and checked the wound. She shook her head at Shanna who wrapped the baby in her shawl.

“We will. We’ll find your people,” Shanna promised. The dwarf coughed roughly. Tanta attempted to ease her pain by moving her slightly. “Where are they? A name?” The woman struggled to pull beads from her hair and from her husband’s hair. She slid them into Tanta’s hand. “Please, Mistress Dwarf, speak while you can.”

“The sword, heirloom.” The dwarf’s breathing stuttered. She closed her eyes, slipping off into oblivion.

Brynye slowly stopped crying, her fingers tangling in Shanna’s hair. The hobbit cooed at the baby. Tanta and Shanna shared a look; what could they do?

“Those men might return. We need to leave,” Shanna reasoned.

“What if her family comes?”

“If you can find something to write on, do it.”

Shanna grabbed the sword, slinging it over her back once Tanta had found its scabbard. Tanta found a pencil and wrote on a piece of torn white canvas where to find young Brynye.

The sound of horse hooves approaching scared the hobbits away. Tanta ran with Brynye clutched tightly to her chest, Shanna feet behind her, as they entered into the woods and ran along the road.

They reached Hobbiton shortly before dinner. Tanta’s parents expected them at their smial, but quick words sent along by the neighbor’s son had dinner arranged at their own smial. The Noakes had stopped by the Took smial and summoned Shanna’s parents as well. The older parents worked up a supper while their children prepared for the child.

They waited two years to officially adopt Brynye. The Thain had kept an ear out for any inquiries about a dwarf child but received none. The few dwarrows they did meet in that time did not recognize the crest on the beads or on the sword. Brynye Noakes-Took settled into the Shire life with her beloved Ma-Ta and Ma-Sha and became the best hobbit a dwarf could be.


	2. 2746, Bree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynye gets lost in Bree and makes new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three dwarrows in this chapter are my invention. There will be a side story that tells more about them one day.

2746, Bree

“Shopping for boots, never thought I would see the day a hobbit would be shopping for boots,” the shopkeeper commented as Tanta brought up the boots, slippers, and socks she wanted for little Brynye. The dwarf’s feet did well in the summer without coverings, but she did not have the hardiness of hobbits when it came to her feet. Honestly, Tanta was tired of picking thorns out of her child’s feet.

“They’re for my daughter,” Tanta explained. “We adopted an orphan; she isn’t a hobbit.”

“She’ll need them then! Got cousins to keep with I bet.” The shopkeeper went to say something else but Shanna burst in frantically searching the store.

“Brynye, she’s lost. I turned my back for one moment and she was gone. We were at the bakery, getting snacks for the road. I called for her but I couldn’t find her.”

“We’ll find her,” Tanta assured. She paid for her purchase and hurried after her wife to find their wayward daughter, wherever she might have gotten off to.

In the eastern market, Brynye sat down in the dirt to wait. She had seen a necklace she thought Ma-Ta might like and had run over to the stall to ask the lady how much it was. When she tried to return to the bakery, the flow of traffic caught her and she was rather lost now. A few tears started to trickle down from her emerald green eyes.

“Lassie, are you all right?” She looked up. A dwarf stood in front of her, towering over the little eleven year old. “Oh lassie.” He knelt in front of her, a two other dwarves stopping to form a protective barricade from the larger Men wandering the market. “You lose your family in the market?”

“I was looking at a necklace for Ma-Ta,” Brynye mumbled. She wiped at the tears on her cheek. “Then the Men, I got caught in their legs, and I don’t know where I am.”

“We’ll help you find your family,” he insisted. “I’m Fothon Grubonul. What’s your name, little one?”

“Brynye.”

“Pleasure to meet you little one. May I carry you?” After receiving a nod, he picked her up with ease and turned back toward the market. “So, where did you last see your, Ma-Ta, was it?”

“The bakery, the one with the blueberry pie on the sign. There’s a stall that sells jewelry nearby.”

“I know where that one is, Brother,” one of the other dwarves said. Fothon motioned for his brother to lead on. They crossed the market and down a road to a smaller market. Brynye pointed at the stall she had been at. The dwarves spread out, Fothon taking the little dwarfling over to the bakery to ask about her parents.

“Brynye!” The lady at the bakery quickly came out and put a reassuring hand on the child. “You have your mothers scared to death. Shanna went looking for Tanta. Stay right here.” Fothon chuckled and whistled for his companions. The lady baker brought out her son, a strapping young man, who stood up on a bench and yelled for Tanta and Shanna. There was a shout from across the market and the two hobbits fought their way through the crowd.

“Ma-Ta!” Brynye cried. The hobbit caught the dwarf as she jumped from Fothon’s arms. Shanna circled them both in a hug, shoulders shaking. “I got caught in the legs. I just wanted to see how much the necklace was for Ma-Ta.”

“Oh, you silly little one, you could have just asked,” Shanna cooed. She looked up at Fothon. “You found her?”

“Aye. A dwarfling is to be cherished. I was not expecting hobbit parents.”

“We adopted her,” Tanta said. “Her parents’ caravan was attacked years ago. We left a note for the family, but we received no word. Her mother handed her to us.”

The gathered dwarves looked sadder at the news. Fothon frowned and placed a hand on Brynye’s head.

“Then we should be glad such generous people found her.” Fothon smiled at the pair. “I am Fothon Grubonul. My brothers and I have just settled here in Bree.”

“Pleasure. I am Tanta Noakes and this is my wife Shanna Took.” The dwarves bowed slightly to the hobbits.

“Might we eat together? Raising a dwarf is hard work. We may be able to answer questions,” Fothon offered.

“That would be appreciated.”

Fothon accompanied them for the rest of their shopping while his two brothers returned to their home to start dinner. When the rest arrived, the food was nearly done and Brynye was able to run around the house like a proper dwarfling.

“She will miss much of her heritage,” Grufton, one of the brothers, commented. “She will not have learned our customs or gained a craft of her own.”

“We’ve worried about that too. We don’t even know when she’ll mature,” Tanta confessed. She looked over at where the last brother, Farfton was wrestling with Brynye playfully. Farfton was just over his majority and still had a playful side to him.

“Seventy is the norm,” Fothon answered.

“Oh dear, neither of us has that may years left in us,” Shanna said. “We can’t give her away though. She’s our daughter.”

“Understandable,” Grufton agreed.

“What about expanding her family?” The dwarves and hobbits looked at Fothon. “Come Brother, neither of us recognize her beads. The three of us are craft-wed; we will not marry and have children to care for. Bringing two hobbits and an orphaned dwarfling into the family will not hurt us. She will need someone to teach her.” Fothon looked at the hobbits and explained, “It’s tradition for someone to step in, to teach those that have lost family. Without a family line, she needs another family to step in and provide her guidance. This way, she could apprentice as a smith as well, have a primary craft at the least. We can teach her weapons as best we can, none of us are warriors but we train with them for the sake of our forging abilities, and we can certainly find others to substitute her training. Trade caravans come through here enough to reach the few settlements we have in Ered Luin.”

“We would have to move from Hobbiton,” Tanta remarked. She looked at Shanna, questions in her eyes. Shanna looked at their daughter. It would be worth it if Brynye had family here, ones that could give her a dwarfish education. Finding a home would be an interesting endeavor.

“There is room here.” Fothon looked over at Brynye. “I am married to my craft, that much is true, but I will not deny the parental instinct that rears its head for that child.” He looked back to Tanta and Shanna. “Mahal had us cross paths for a reason. Be our sisters, and when you pass on, I will look after her. I have the years that you will not.”

“May we sleep on it?” The older dwarf nodded and looked over just in time to see Brynye throw a knife across the room into the wood of the door. Farfton laughed heartedly but commented that the throw needed improvement. Brynye promised to do better.

The hobbits stayed the night, though they were late to bed with the conversation drawing on for hours. In the morning, Fothon accompanied the hobbits back to Hobbiton to gather their things.


	3. Early Spring 2775, Outskirts of Bree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarrows of Erebor, some at least, are passing by Bree. Fothon takes the chance to see Brynye trained by other dwarrows. Things don't go quite as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have the royal family of Erebor making an appearance in this chapter. I actually have a few side stories/one-shots planned to go with this chapter too. Thorin's point of view keeps nagging me.

Early Spring 2775, Outskirts of Bree

“Faster. Block. Slash. Watch your feet!” Fothon watched as the dwarf captain, Fundin, drilled Brynye. Word had come that another caravan of wandering dwarves from Erebor would be passing through on the way to Ered Luin. Fothon and Brynye had staked out the road for days, with Tanta bringing them food every few days, in hopes that Brynye could train with dwarves. While Fothon, Grufton, and Farfton did their best, they were not warriors by trade. Last year Brynye had learned the ways of knives when several dwarves had passed through. Her ability to throw them had increased to a deadly accuracy and she had taken to using scraps of metal to fashion small concealable knives. He had stopped trying to figure out how many she carried at a time. Fundin was teaching her axes. She was already versed with a bow, thanks to the hobbits surprisingly, and had some experience with swords thanks to testing the ones forged with Farfton.

“Give her a break, Captain.” Fothon looked to see Thráin standing there. The prince was growing greyer with each passing day. “Then switch her to swords. We leave in the morning. Best get her versed in as much as you can.” Thráin looked at Fothon. “Are you sure you won’t join us? Your brothers have already signed on.”

“Nay, I have an obligation to Brynye.”

“That’s what I mean lad. Surely, your lassie should be with her uncles in Ered Luin. Why separate the family? You’re her father, are you not?”

“I am not.” Thráin stopped suddenly. He looked between Brynye and Fothon. They had some similarities, enough that they passed as family when Breelanders or travelers took issue with her presence in his.

“Then who is she?”

“My adopted daughter.” Thráin turned to see one of the dwarf guard standing there with a hobbit lass. She was carrying a basket and two blankets. “Fothon was kind enough to adopt us into his family, to serve as the family she lost.”

“Prince Thráin, this is Tanta Noakes, one of Brynye’s adoptive mothers,” Fothon introduced.

“Ma-Ta!” Brynye hurried to her mother and hugged her firmly. “Oh, I smell fresh scones.”

“Aye, your uncles said you had met with the caravan. I brought some light snacks. Shanna is bringing a cart with more.”

“Your generosity is too much,” Thráin began to say.

“Our daughter’s people shall be treated as ours,” Tanta replied. Brynye took two scones and handed one to Fothon. Tanta held the rest of the basket out to the prince. She offered the blankets as well. “I am sure you have some that need warm blankets.”

“Thank you, Mistress Noakes.” Tanta nodded and took a seat beside Fothon. Brynye was gushing about her training. Fundin commented on her skills a few times before a young dwarf, older than Brynye by a few years, walked over with a small dwarf in his arms. The dwarf was sucking on a rattle that looked like an axe.

“These are my sons Balin and Dwalin. Is he restless again, Son?”

“Aye.”

“Oh well that won’t do.” Tanta pulled something from her pocket, cookies wrapped in a handkerchief. “I brought these for little ones if I found any among your caravan. Would you like a cookie, little dwarfling?” The dwarf stared at the cookie before nodding. Tanta gave him half to start with. The first mouthful left him grinning. He crawled out of his brother’s arms and into Tanta’s. “I haven’t had a dwarfling in my lap since Brynye was a babe.”

“Back to training, lass?” Fundin suggested. The dwarf nodded and exchanged the axes she had borrowed for a sword.

“Fundin!” The call was sharp. They looked over to see Thráin approaching with a younger dwarf, perhaps ten years younger than Brynye. “Thorin needs a good spar. He can help train her.”

“Thorin, son of Thráin, at your service,” the prince said as he addressed Brynye.

“Brynye, at yours.”

Thorin quickly determined that she needed a different style of sword, something more akin to the type that her own father had once wielded according to Fothon’s assessment of the sword they had left behind in Bree. After that, it was all practice between the two of them. Thorin, while considerably more experienced, was not prepared for the occasional Hobbit or Men technique that Brynye would throw in. They sparred until Shanna appeared with the cart of food. Brynye then helped to distribute it among the people. She met Frerin, Thorin’s little brother, as well as Dís, his little sister. Dís was only fifteen. She was wearing worn clothes and mending the clothes of her father and brothers.

“I could see what my mothers kept of mine,” Brynye offered. “They’re not dwarfish style, but they would be about your size. You could take the cloth and make new clothes.”

“I appreciate the offer but I don’t know if we will be here long enough for you to get them.” The two girls talked for some time, long enough that it was getting toward dark. Shanna and Tanta had headed back to Bree with a dwarf escort whose task was also to replenish supplies. Fothon called for Brynye so they might return as well. Fothon was standing beside Thráin’s wife--Princess Frís--, and Fundin. Balin walked up to Brynye as she made her way over.

“Might I write you, on occasion?” Balin inquired.

“I think that would be lovely,” Brynye replied. Balin grinned and ran back to where his aunt tended to his little brother.

The sentries gave a loud shout. An arrow flew over Dís’ head and struck the side of a wagon. Alarmed shouts went up around the camp. Fothon tossed Brynye her bow and quiver. She strung the quiver across her back and notched an arrow, aiming for the nearest bandit. She put herself deftly between Dís and the bandits, the young dwarf scrambling for a weapon.

“Behind you!” The roar came from Thorin. He was running toward them. Brynye did a backwards somersault, releasing an arrow as she did, and luckily not losing the arrows still in the quiver. Her arrow struck the bandit in time. He was coming down on Dís. Thorin took to covering his sister more intensely while Brynye aimed for the far targets.

Down to the last three arrows, Brynye broke her bowstring. She tossed the bow toward Dís and took an arrow in each hand using them as daggers against the bandits. Even when the shafts broke, she used the remaining wood as a cruel dagger to their hearts or necks. The Men, for that was what they were, stood no chance against dwarrows, a true race of warriors.

The sounds of chaos were swallowed by the silence as the last of the bandits fled or died at the hands of dwarves. Frerin ran to his siblings, checking on each of them. Thráin yelled for a healer as he cradled a body. Fothon scanned the encampment for Brynye and found her at Thorin’s side, collecting her bow from the shaking Dís.

“Thank you for the warning,” Brynye told the young prince.

“You were busy defending my sister. For her life, I thank you.”

“Brynye, are you bleeding?” The question, posed by Dís, made Thorin take stock of the dwarf. She was indeed bleeding, her tunic soaking and cut. Thorin caught the older dwarf as she started to lean dangerously to one side.

“I need a healer!” Thorin bellowed. He laid her down on the back of the wagon, his hands coming up to staunch the blood flow. Fothon joined them, his hand going for Brynye’s hair. “She is bleeding heavily.”

“The healers are busy with others,” Thrór announced as he stalked over, his axe bloody from battle. “Master Fothon, am I right in my interpretations of your hobbits that they are healers?”

“Aye, and adept ones at that.”

“Thorin, Frerin, Dís, go with Fothon into Bree. Fundin!” The dwarf ran over, his son running up behind him with his baby brother clutched tight in his arms. “Accompany my family into town. We’ll need a stretcher for her. Dís, get me a few of your handkerchiefs. I need to staunch this blood.” They moved quickly. Fundin and Frerin found the stretcher. Thorin helped his grandfather slow the blood flow and then move her onto the stretcher. Frerin and Fothon took the ends of the stretcher while the others grabbed what supplies they needed. Thrór rejoined his son who looked at his children as they passed the bleeding dwarf laying between them.

It was Grufton that spotted them as they approached the house. He shouted for Tanta and motioned the group in. The dwarrowdam was placed onto the kitchen table. Tanta screamed for Shanna and her medicines while assessing her daughter, who was rousing from her shock-induced haze.

“I need to work on the wound. I’ll need several of you to hold her down. Young lady, wash your hands. I’ll need you to hand me my tools. Shanna, I need the first three tonics I taught you.”

“On it.”

Thorin held Brynye’s chest down with the help of Balin. Little Dwalin was content to sit in a chair for now. Fothon and Frerin pinned down her legs. Grufton and Farfton left to summon Rangers to the caravan, to imprison the traitorous Men that had attacked the Dwarves, as well as to find any healers in Bree that could be roused to go to the caravan.

“She’s going to start moving,” Tanta warned as she cleaned the wound and then stuck her hand inside.

Moving was an underestimation of what Brynye did. She screamed and tried to throw off the hands holding her. Tanta tried to calm her, but it failed. Thorin began singing, low and slow. One arm held her firmly across the chest, but he let his other arm come up to her face. She leaned into the comfort. Balin managed to free one arm to grab her hand. The two older dwarves comforted her and distracted her as Tanta worked. Dís looked pale but helped Tanta with the wound.

Shanna offered the first potion that she had made. Tanta took the salve and placed it inside the wound. The bleeding slowed and stopped as it hardened slightly. Shanna gave the second one over and Tanta poured it into the wound. The screams returned with a burning taking over the wound. Dwalin stumbled over and put his tiny hand in her last free one. Brynye looked at the dwarfling who stared at her with wide eyes. Dwalin gave her a smile, the innocent hopeful smile of a child.

“Last one, sweetheart, is for you to drink. I need to stitch this wound closed though. You have to hold still.”

“Ma-Ta,” Brynye whined.

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

“Your first wound is always the worst, lassie,” Fundin promised. “Breathe with Thorin and Balin, all right? We’ve got you.”

The boys tried their damnedest. When Tanta had finished, she put a bandage over the wound and sent Shanna to get Brynye’s nightgown. Thorin and Balin helped her sit up and drink the potion she needed before she changed. Fothon helped her to her room and laid her down for the night.

“The King wanted us to accompany her here; I also believe he wanted his family safe. May we remain the night?” Fundin asked.

“I would have insisted on it if you tried to leave,” Shanna replied. “You’ll have to do some doubling up. We have two guest rooms, the first two doors on the right upstairs. Young lady, if you don’t mind, you can double up with Brynye. She’ll need a minder in case she wakes during the night.” Dís nodded and ran toward the room that Brynye had disappeared into. Fothon left the dwarrowdam to take care of the older dwarrowdam. Grufton and Farfton returned and helped set up a watch with Fundin. Shanna and Tanta found bedclothes for each guest.

The morning came late for everyone. Fundin wished to inquire to the caravan but could not leave the royal family. In his place went Fothon and Farfton. The two returned with news that the caravan would be staying additional days and that, if possible, the Heirs of Durin were to remain in Bree where no one would suspect them. Tanta agreed and set about taking care of all the heirs like they were her own children. Balin and Dwalin soon joined that mix as well.

Brynye did not stir until midday. Dís was helping Shanna with the cooking and that left Thorin to sit with the dwarrowdam. Balin was minding Dwalin while Frerin and Fundin worked on securing the house.  Thorin looked up from the bowstring in his hand when he heard shifting on the bed. He was working on replacing the string Brynye’s bow. Brynye blinked slowly, turning her head to look at him.

“Your Highness.”

“None of that. You’ve earned the ability to call me Thorin.” He finished the knot he was working on before setting the bow to the side. “How do you feel?”

“Like someone tried to run me through.”

“They did not succeed.” He smiled slightly. “Would you like lunch? I think your mother was working on soup and tea for you.”

“I don’t think I could eat anything right now.”

“Yes, well, you will need your strength.”

“The others?”

“Those who came with us are safe. I have not told my sister or brother yet, but our mother was among the fatalities last night. Fundin thinks that is why we were sent into Bree.” Brynye frowned at the news. “I am grateful for what I have, Miss Brynye. I could have lost my sister if it had not been for your quick actions. I have replaced your bowstring as a small measure of my thanks.” He picked up the bow to show her.

“Thank you.”

“Rest. I will tell your mother you are awake.” He stood up and started to leave.

“Thorin?” He turned around. “I am sorry about your mother.” He gave her a slight smile and nodded as if to say, “So am I.”

The caravan left two days later, Farfton and Grufton going with them. Dís and several younger dwarrowdams found new clothing in what Shanna and Tanta had kept from Brynye’s youth. Tanta sent off a basket of healing supplies with them and food as well.

King Thrór extended an invitation to both Fothon and Brynye if they ever wished to live in Ered Luin. Thorin reassured Brynye that the offer would still stand when he was king as well.


	4. Late Spring, 2775, Bree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynye experiences her first losses. Fothon is there to pick her up when she falls; he was prepared for this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't put a major character death warning on this because I don't think it deserves it. Yes the characters are one of the main ones in this little series but they were getting up there in age and didn't die violently. I don't see the need for a warning for that. If I'm wrong, let me know.

Late Spring, 2775, Bree

The skin on Brynye’s stomach still ached despite weeks of healing since the incident with the dwarf caravan. She found she missed her uncles but Bree had been her home since she was young. She wasn’t ready to leave yet.

It was nearly second breakfast and Shanna had yet to wake up. Tanta sent her daughter up to wake the older hobbit while preparing the meal Brynye and Fothon would need in the forge. The young dwarf knocked on her Ma-Sha’s door, but no reply came. She pulled the door open and crept over to the bed. Her Ma-Sha had been so tired lately. Brynye placed her hand the hobbit’s hand. It was cool to the touch.

“Ma-Sha?” There was no stirring from the hobbit. Brynye shook her mother slightly and called against louder. She watched the older woman’s chest; there was no movement. “Ma-Sha! MA-TA! Fothon! Somebody! Help!” Brynye clutched at her mother and wept. “Please, no.”

Fothon reached her first, Tanta following slower up the stairs. Fothon put his head to Shanna’s chest but heard no beat. He checked for one on her wrist and put his hand over her mouth to feel for a breath. None came. He looked up at Brynye, his precious niece, and shook his head. Her screams nearly shook the windowpanes.

Tanta walked into the room slowly. Her daughter’s hysterics were enough to clue her in. She sat down beside her dear wife and wept.

Fothon borrowed a wagon from a neighbor and hitched their two ponies to it. He put out the fires in the house and threw together travel bags for everyone. He had the wagon ready and went back up to where the women were.

“The wagon is ready to go to the Shire.” Tanta gave a low nod. She corralled Brynye long enough for Fothon to take Tanta’s body down to the wagon.

They met a Ranger on the way to Tuckborough. He escorted them in and wished them well. The Tooks received words long before they appeared and were waiting. Shanna’s siblings, all younger, helped to prepare the body. They had the funeral the next morning.

Tanta insisted on visiting the old smial, the one looked after by a cousin of theirs in Hobbiton. Brynye and Fothon scoured the market for food while Tanta settled in and talked with her nieces and nephews. They were having dinner at the old Noakes-Took smial.

Brynye, after supper, went to check on Tanta who had retired to the study for a few minutes alone. She walked back to the kitchen where her cousins and Fothon were speaking, head downcast.

“Bry?” one cousin asked.

“Ma-Ta is with Ma-Sha now.” Fothon was across the room in three steps, holding his dear dwarfling in his arms. She wept openly, tightly clinging to him. The cousins were all silent before they moved to take care of the body and notify relatives. It was no great surprise that Tanta followed Shanna so closely; they had been inseparable since they had found each other as children. They were a love story in the Shire, proof that true love and soulmates did exist.

The Thain declared that Brynye’s claim to the smial was clear. Upon hearing that she was not of mature dwarf age, he agreed with the terms that Fothon and her family had setup years before. Brynye would live with Fothon in Bree until she was of age, then she could live alone in the smial. For now, both her Took and Noakes cousins minded the smial with one of her cousins moving in to see to the upkeep. In return, Brynye would send letters weekly with the Rangers that traveled from Bree to the Shire to keep her family advised.

Thirty long years later, after accomplishing her mastery in smithery and reaching the age of maturity, Brynye returned to Hobbiton to live among the hobbits once more. Fothon visited every three months.


	5. Summer 2806, Hobbiton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynye finds an apprentice.

Summer 2806, Hobbiton

Wystan Took grew up hearing about Brynye Noakes-Took. The majority of the Shire, with the exception of the Tooks and the Noakes, avoided the hobbit-raised-dwarf with extreme prejudice. Wystan never did. His parents had been cousins of cousins of Shanna Took and he remembered the odd pair of Brynye and Fothon appearing every Yule for the family celebrations at the insistence of whichever Took was leading the Yule celebration that year, typically the Thain, currently Fortinbras Took. She was a fine woman, even if she did have a beard (though she had been shaving it for as long as Wystan had been alive, a show a mourning her uncle said).

When she moved back to Hobbiton permanently the year before, Wystan had taken to watching her work at the forge. She created shoes for the horses, blades for the farmers, anything of metal that was needed by the hobbits. She even started working on jewelry, a comment about a second mastership in the making explaining the sudden dedication to delicate lines. Her prices were far lower than any merchant in Bree, except perhaps her uncle but he didn’t mind her stealing business from him for he had enough on his own, and any sane hobbit would get over their uncomfortableness with dwarves for the deals she provided.

Wystan was completely smitten. Which led him to leaning against the fence outside the forge to watch her through the great gaping doors as she worked.

“Wystan, want to give me a hand?” she called over. She paused in her hammering and wiped her brow. The short sword on the anvil glowed an autumn red. She placed it back into the coals. “It’s a commission for the Thain.”

“Sure! What do you need?” He jumped the fence and slipped on the protective boots she motioned to off to the side of the door. The leather boots were loose and meant to protect hobbit feet from hot metal. He slid on a pair of offered gloves and an apron.

Brynye brought the blade back out from the heat and guided his hands to the handle. “Hold it firm and flip it over when I tell you.” He obeyed her command, keeping his grip firm as she hammered away. She instructed him to put it back into the coats, correcting his placement by guiding his hands and telling him where to aim in the coals, before repeating the process. They worked for several hours. When she quenched the blade, Wystan grinned widely. She placed the blade on her worktable, supported the blade, before turning to thank him.

“You watch me every day. Would you like to learn, be my apprentice?” she asked.

“Me? But isn’t dwarfish forging an art coveted by the dwarves? Wouldn’t you be in trouble?”

“I asked my master, Uncle Fothon. He said I could take a non-dwarf apprentice if they had the heart of a dwarf smith and the dedication for the art. What do you say?” Wystan beamed as he nodded enthusiastically; not only would he be able to spend more time with Brynye but also he would be learning a trade at the same time. “Good. I’ll draw up a contract tonight. If your parents wish to review it, they may stop by tonight after dinner. Show up in the morning after first breakfast. I’ll provide your day meals. You’ll be home for dinner.”

“Thank you, Mistress Dwarf!” He slipped out of the boots and ran off down the road, kicking up dust as he went, to tell his parents. Brynye smiled softly; he was a cute hobbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess how long it took me to figure out the Took family tree and where Wystan could have come from? I had to do so much math, create a new child to one of the Thains, and then map it all the way down. I seriously have a family tree for this story that has 151 characters on it because I detailed how so many people are related in this universe.


	6. 2812, Hobbiton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is getting side-stories too.

2812, Hobbiton

The wedding of Wystan Took to Brynye Noakes-Took was the party of the year. The grandness of the party was thanks to the Took Clan, who had descended on Hobbiton in masses, and the few dwarrows that appeared. Among the dwarrows to appear were Balin Fundinul and his ornery little brother Dwalin, sporting a Mohawk much to Brynye’s amusement and still hooked on the cookies that the Noakes-Took made. Dís had made the trip as well, with her personal guard Víli, though by the looks of the guard he would not be a guard much longer according to the gossip of Balin. Fothon had reunited with Farfton and the two mourned the loss of Grufton in the Battle of Azanulbizar; their brother would have loved to see their little dwarfling married.

Dwalin started a drinking contest with one of Wystan’s brothers. Several hobbits flocked to the table to join in and Farfton joined the fun as well. Balin acted as the officiant and declared one of the Tooks winner after Dwalin went ass-over-teakettle down a small slope on the way to get another ale.

The newlyweds watched the antics of their kith and kin and laughed. Wystan rarely drifted from Brynye’s side, except for one occasion when Balin snagged him for a talk. When he had returned to his wife, his face had been a little paler. Fothon muttered something about the shovel talk to a Took, laughter taking over their conversation.

The next weeks were long for the newlyweds. Wystan and Brynye had chosen to take up the forge in Bree as Fothon was moving on to Ered Luin to live with his brother. The dwarrows that had come for the wedding helped the newlyweds move out of the smial before returning to Ered Luin. The smial was given to a younger cousin in need of a home for his growing family.

As they walked across the threshold of their new home, Wystan looked to his wife and said, “To the beginning of our new life.” She kissed him to shut him up.


	7. 2815, Bree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A birth...oh gods, there are two of them! *cue dwarf fainting*

2815, Bree

Fothon paced nervously in front of the door to his old Bree home. Sitting on a fence behind him, Wystan’s father, Audrunas, watched his in-law pace like an expectant father, or perhaps grandfather in this case. Fothon was puffing away at a pipe of Old Toby, packed and lit by Audrunas for him.

“Calm down. She’s a strong lady; she’ll do fine,” the hobbit assured him.

“Dwarrows do not have easy pregnancies. She’s so much larger than a normal pregnancy.”

“If Dwarves and hobbits weren’t meant to intermingle, then the Mother of the Hobbits, the great Yavanna, wouldn’t have married the Father of Dwarves, Aulë.” That did seem to ease the tension in Fothon’s shoulders a bit.

A sudden piercing cry, the one of a babe, filled the air. Fothon dropped to the ground in relief, his pipe nearly falling from his mouth.

“Twins!” Wystan’s voice came out an open window. “Boy and girl!” Audrunas raised his pipe in toast while Fothon kissed the ground and praised Mahal.

Freye and Frye Took came into life screaming, the almost perfect mirrors of their mother. Holding little Freye, Wystan grinned at those flowery blue eyes, so much like her parents’, perhaps a few shades lighter than those of his darling wife. He kissed her head; he was a father now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you wondering why I have dwarrows in some places and dwarves in others? Because a Hobbit wouldn't know to call a dwarrows dwarrows.


	8. 2845, The road to Ered Luin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travels never go as planned. (Character deaths ahead)

2845, The road to Ered Luin

It had been a long discussion between Brynye and Wystan about moving. Wystan was the one pushing for the move; he could see how unhappy Freye and Frye were in Bree where their bulkier forms tended to bruise the unsuspecting Hobbits and Men that they played with. Fothon, on one of his visits, suggested they move to Ered Luin. Brynye’s hesitance was won over by the chance for her children to have other dwarrows to play with. She had written Thorin to confirm that her invitation to reside in Ered Luin was still good with two half-breeds and a hobbit tagging along. His response was that there was a job waiting for her in the forges, guard, or healing halls and he would have a home prepared for their arrival. He remembered her fondly it seemed.

The family had tagged along with a group of newly arrived dwarves moving from the Iron Hills to Ered Luin. A Ranger led the caravan and had been guiding the dwarrows since they met at the Weathering Hills. According to the Rangers, there had been an increase of scavengers attacking in the lands due to a slightly harsher winter than had been predicted. There were few true warriors among the dwarrows, mostly elder craftsmen or young children.

The Ranger shouted out a warning just as they were ambushed. Wystan grabbed his bow and took cover behind a wagon. He shouted for Freye, his precious daughter, to get to cover. Meanwhile, Frye had grabbed his battle-axes and charged into the fight alongside his mother. He took out three Men with relative ease as he worked his way back to his sister.

Wystan saw the horse and rider bearing down on Freye and ran. He leapt at his daughter, taking the spear to his chest. His darling daughter gasped under him and began choking on her own blood. The spear had pierced them both.

“Adad!” His son was there, striking down the killer and cradling his family. He chanted his denials and kissed their heads. He was too late to help either of them.

Brynye found them soon after. She wept freely for her daughter and husband as she freed them from the spear. She took care to pick them both up, wrap them in their cloaks, and place them on the wagon. She would see them buried away from this place.

The Ranger, injured but alive, informed the group that Thorin’s Halls was only an hour away. The bodies of the dearly departed were gathered while the Men were shoved to the side of the road to rot.

Lady Dís greeted the caravan in her brother’s stead, the king-in-exile off working in a town of Men. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the dead and she ran to Brynye as the dwarf dismounted from her wagon. The older dwarrowdam fell into the arms of her old friend and cried.

The funerals were taken care of by the treasury on order of Lady Dís. Fothon, old but still kicking, helped Frye prepare his father for the burial in traditional hobbit fashion. Lady Dís took to helping Brynye with Freye. The noblewoman feared for the life of her dear friend. If she made it to the next year, she would be surprised.

Frye threw himself into work after the funerals, whatever he could take. He found dwarrows that were willing to take him on as an apprentice early. When he was old enough to join the trading caravans, his time in Ered Luin grew short as he fled from the memories that haunted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post the next installment tomorrow with any luck. It's done, I just have to edit it and mark where side-stories come in.


End file.
